Shadowcaster Read online

  The client ignored the question. Instead, he fished inside his cloak, and Breon heard a soft clink of metal on metal. When the client extended his hand toward him, Breon couldn’t help taking a step back.

  The client released an exasperated breath. “I was told that you need something of hers in order to spell her,” the client said. “Do you want it or not?” He opened his fist and dropped a locket into Breon’s hand.

  Breon weighed it in his palm. It appeared to be gold, and it was inscribed on the outside with a rose. When he pried it open with a thumbnail, he saw that it contained tiny painted portraits of bluebloods that seemed to shift before his eyes.

  He looked up at the client. “Was this . . . something with sentimental value that—?”

  “Yes.” When Breon kept studying it, the client hissed, “Put that thing away before you lose it. And don’t let anyone see it.”

  Breon tucked it away in his breeches pocket, lowering his head to hide the scowl on his face. He did not like this client much at all.

  Looking up and down the street, the client drew his hood forward, his cloak closer around him. Maybe it was the cold wind, but Breon got the impression that he didn’t want to be seen with the likes of him, even in his new clothes. “I want you to go on playing and singing and keep her there until I come. Then you can go.”

  Breon shifted the jafasa on his back, uneasy about greasing this meeting. “Does the girlie know you? Is this something she’ll—? You an’t planning to—?”

  “Do you want this job or not?” The client gripped the front of Breon’s fine coat and gave him a shake. Again, there came a soft clinking of metal.

  Does this cove have a whole pocketful of lockets from all the girlies he wants to woo?

  “You’re being paid—well paid—to sing, not to ask questions.”

  Breon hesitated. This gig stunk to high heaven, but he really needed it, especially if he and the others were leaving Whacks. They’d want traveling money.

  If he could get money up front, he’d go back and collect Goose and Aubrey and hit the road without any ethical dithers. It was worth a try. He stuck out his hand. “I need a down payment. Twenty-five crowns.”

  “I gave the down payment to your . . . handler,” the client said. “I’ll pay him the rest when you deliver the girl. The concert should be over about nine-thirty. I want you here at quarter after. You can keep time by the temple bells. Understand?”

  Breon didn’t like it, but Whacks had already made the deal, so it was hard to argue the point. He nodded. “Got it.”

  “One more thing.” Reaching inside his cloak again like some kind of street magician, the client produced a bunch of flowers wrapped loosely in a cloth and thrust them at Breon. “Give her these.”

  That was odd. It seemed like his client would want to hand off the flowers himself and make sure he got credit. “You want me to give them to her?”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  Breon took the bouquet. “What if she asks who sent these? What should I say?”

  “Tell her it was Darian,” the client said.

  Darian?

  “Now, remember—keep her there until you see us meet face-to-face.”

  “Right,” Breon said, just wishing this awful client would leave.

  But Darian had one more thing to say. “Just remember—if you disappoint me, you’ll wish you’d never been born.” He turned, the snow eddying around him, and walked away, boots crunching on the icy cobblestones. Breon watched him until he turned a corner and disappeared.

  Breon stood there, as if frozen to the spot. His hands were full, what with his instrument case and the flowers. Finally, he set his case down in the snow, unbuckled it, and slid the flowers inside, thinking they would make a pretty poor show by the time he handed them off.

  He really didn’t care. He never should have agreed to this gig. He knew that now, but he couldn’t see any way out of it.

  I’ll see how things look, he told himself. If it smells too fishy, I’ll find a bluejacket. That’s what he told himself, but he knew in his heart he wouldn’t.

  12

  THE PLAYERS TAKE THE STAGE

  As soon as Aunt Mellony heard about the concert, she’d insisted that Lyss borrow a gown from her for the performance. Lyss’s aunt had a kind of gown museum in her closet, each garment lovingly preserved in a linen wrapper. They were the kind of dresses that nobody could afford these days, even if they could find them. Lyss had to try on a dozen before she found one green dress that she could squeeze into. And even that one was so narrow that she could scarcely walk, and it was really too short on her.

  “You’re just big-boned, dear,” Aunt Mellony had said, chewing her lower lip and looking Lyss up and down. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  It wasn’t just bone. Anyone who spent so much time sticking and sparring and practicing with a bow, who spent days on horseback, and digging latrines, and the like, tended to add layers of muscle. That was a good thing, most of the time. Except when a body was trying to get into one of Aunt Mellony’s slinky dresses.

  “I appreciate the offer, Aunt Mellony, but maybe this isn’t going to work out,” Lyss had said. “I’m sure I have something that I—”

  “Nonsense,” Mellony said. “Make your choice, and I’ll have it altered.”

  “I don’t want you altering your dresses to fit me,” Lyss said. “Then they won’t fit you. I’ll just wear my clan coat. That will—”

  “Your funeral coat is certainly memorable,” Aunt Mellony said, scrunching up her face, “but I think for this occasion you’ll want a more festive look.”

  In the end, Lyss went with the too-short green dress, figuring that she could get through the performance, anyway. Still, it was a good thing Sasha dropped by and helped her on with it, or she would have been late.

  “You sure you don’t want me to slice it up the sides so you can walk?” Sasha said dubiously, resting her hand on her belt knife.

  “It’s a borrowed dress, Sasha,” Lyss said. “I’ll just have to live with it for a little while. I’ll wear my shawl over it, and bring something more comfortable to change into right after.”

  “Suit yourself,” Sasha said, fumbling with a row of tiny buttons. The whole thing was faintly ridiculous—Sasha playing chambermaid, helping her into petticoats and lace instead of weapons and armor.

  “So, how about that—Julianna and Finn,” Sasha said, around the buttonhook gripped between her teeth. “Did you see that coming?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “I didn’t have a clue, either,” Sasha said, “but I thought maybe Julianna would have told you ahead of time.”

  “We’re really not close,” Lyss said. Despite all her efforts, her voice trembled. With that, Sasha left off buttoning and walked around until she could look Lyss in the face.

  “He’s not a good match for you, Lyss,” she said gently. “You’re stronger than him in a dozen ways. You can do better, and you will.”

  Lyss was mortified. Am I that easy to read? Does everyone know I’ve been mooning after Finn sul’Mander? Am I the laughingstock of the entire court? Or, worse yet, the object of pity?

  “No,” Sasha said, answering her unspoken question. “Likely, I’m the only one that knows, and I’m not telling anyone.”

  When Lyss and Sasha emerged into the stable yard, there were three coaches lined up in front of the door and a small crowd of people waiting to board.

  Lyss spotted Julianna right away. As usual, she was surrounded by a crowd of friends, and they were buzzing about the engagement. Lyss made a wide circle around that, as she would a hornet’s nest. She knew she should congratulate her cousin on her engagement, but she just wasn’t in the mood. At least Finn wasn’t with Julianna—a small blessing.

  But Julianna saw her, and turned away from her friends. “Alyssa! Wait! Let me see!”

  So Lyss had to stop, and turn, and show off her dress with the tiny, mincing steps that were all she c
ould manage. Her cousin wore a long, sinuous dress in a smoky purple, a flatland lily in her midnight hair. It was no wonder Finn was smitten with her.

  “You look lovely, Alyssa,” Julianna said, gracious as always. “I’m so glad to see that dress put to good use. Mother insists on keeping them, but she never wears them. You’ve really made it your own.”

  Not for very long, Lyss thought.

  “Let me see!” It was Bethy Musgrave, the daughter of a landowner near West Gate. Someone Lyss scarcely knew and didn’t want to know better.

  Bethy tapped her rouged lips with her forefinger, frowning. “You do look statuesque,” she said, as if savoring the word. “Though I wonder if you should have added a flounce at the hem to take care of the ankle situation.”

  Lyss looked down to where the hem of her gown just grazed her shins. Then looked up at Bethy. “At least that’s fixable,” she said. “Being an asshole isn’t.”

  For a long moment, Bethy stood frozen, a stunned expression on her face. Then she picked up her skirts, tossed her head, and said to Julianna, “Don’t forget, we’re playing cards next week with Cecily and Geoff.” She flounced away.

  To Lyss’s surprise, Julianna began to laugh. Once started, she laughed until she blotted tears from her eyes with her sleeve. “Did you see her face? She deserved that. I just wish I could speak my mind like you do.”

  “Not everyone wants to hear what’s on my mind,” Lyss said.

  “But they need to hear it,” Julianna said. “I thought what you said in council today was brilliant. We need some new ideas. I get so frustrated sometimes. . . .” She trailed off.

  You too? “Oh. Well. Thank you,” Lyss said. “I . . . ah . . . appreciate your support. I . . . didn’t get to congratulate you personally on your engagement. You and Finn are so beautiful . . . so beautifully well matched.”

  “Do you really think so?” From the expression on Julianna’s face, it seemed she really cared what Lyss thought. “The queen has given her blessing, and Mama couldn’t be more pleased. I didn’t expect . . . well . . .” She hesitated, then rushed ahead. “Listen, I know this is probably the wrong time to ask it, but I’ve scarcely seen you since you returned to court. I know how busy you are, but . . . it would mean so much to me if you would stand up with Finn and me at our wedding.”

  Lyss opened her mouth, and for once nothing came out. She’d been blindsided once again. How could she be so good at dodging arrows on the battlefield, and such an easy target at court?

  When Lyss said nothing, Julianna rushed on. “Finn and I talked about it, and he thinks it’s a perfect idea. We both admire you so much and we can’t think of anyone else we’d rather share our day with.”

  “Well, ah, this is such a surprising . . . surprise. I . . . ah . . . don’t know if I—”

  “You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Julianna said. “I know you have other things on your mind tonight. We don’t even have a date yet, but we’re thinking sooner rather than later. If you say yes, we will try to work around your schedule.” Her cousin squeezed her arm. “You’re the closest I have to a sister, so I hope you’ll at least consider it.”

  “Great,” Lyss said. “That’s . . . I’ll sure look forward to that.” Like having a tooth pulled.

  Why didn’t I see this coming? she thought. I’m Julianna’s only female relative who’s under forty years old. Of course she’d ask me to be in the wedding. Not to mention that it was a smart political move. The kind Julianna was so good at.

  When she looked up, Julianna was watching her with this expectant look, so she said, “Where is Finn, by the way? I thought he was coming, too.”

  “He’s going to meet us there,” Julianna said. “He couldn’t get away any earlier. Now I’d better go see which carriage we’re supposed to take.”

  Lyss, her mind in a tumble, watched her cousin as she walked away toward the waiting carriages.

  “Your Highness.”

  Lyss turned to find Cam right behind her. He was now dressed in his blues, with not a speck of powdered sugar anywhere. “Your Highness, I’m to escort you to the middle carriage,” he said. “We’d better get under way if you’re to make your time. I’ve loaded up your instrument case, and Princess Julianna is already on board.” Looking forward, Lyss saw that the middle carriage was surrounded by more Gray Wolves on horseback.

  “You haven’t seen Shadow, have you?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Captain Byrne said he was supposed to ride with us, but I an’t seen him yet. Maybe he’s decided to meet us there.”

  Her mind in a stew of worry, Lyss allowed herself to be led to the designated carriage. Cam gave her a hand up, then climbed in after her. “Captain Byrne said I should ride inside,” he said, as if feeling the need to justify his presence. “Talbot will be riding alongside.”

  “Great,” Lyss said automatically. “That’s great.”

  Cam settled in next to Julianna on the opposite seat, but Lyss scarcely noticed. I shouldn’t have pressured Shadow to perform at this concert, Lyss thought. The last thing he’d want would be to get up in front of people so soon after Aspen’s death. He’s the kind who’d want to deal with grief in private. I don’t care if I have to perform alone. Just let him be all right.

  “Alyssa? What’s wrong?”

  Lyss looked up to meet her cousin’s worried eyes and furrowed brow. “Nothing. Just trying to remember my—”

  Just then, the carriage rocked a little as someone climbed in.

  It was Shadow.

  “Hello, Meadowlark,” Shadow said, claiming the empty space next to Lyss and setting his basilka between his knees. He nodded to Cam and Julianna. “Sorry I’m late. I hope I haven’t held you up.”

  “Shadow!” Lyss threw her arms around him. “Thank the Maker. I was beginning to think you weren’t—that you were coming straight from Demonai Camp.”

  “I arrived a few hours ago. I thought I should wash the sweat off before I went to temple.” He cocked his head. “Are you all right?”

  “Perfectly,” Lyss said. “I was . . . I just didn’t want to be late. Will your father be here?”

  He nodded. “We came back together. We’ve been working on a project.”

  Shadow was clad in leggings and boots, a talisman around his neck. Over top, he wore a fine deerskin mourning coat decorated with aspen trees. He looked Lyss up and down, taking in her dress and hair. “Let’s hope our music is more in harmony than our clothes,” he said.

  “It will be,” Lyss said. She dug in her carry bag and pulled out her set list. “Now, let’s make sure we’re singing off the same sheet. What do you have?”

  Their duets were songs they’d been singing their whole lives. Shadow had brought two new compositions for his solo pieces. So he had been writing music while he was away. It was just like old times, heads together, arguing over music.

  In no time, they clattered over South Bridge and pulled up in front of the temple. Concertgoers, a mingle of the diverse peoples of the Fells, filled the entire street. Wizards and members of the Vale nobility descended from carriages, lighting up the square with their finery. These would be patrons of the Briar Rose Ministry. Some of them were longtime supporters of the cause. Others, no doubt, were currying favor with the queen.

  Apprentices wore the rainbow badges of their guilds, soldiers their dress uniforms. Clanfolk were well represented, too, clad in traditional finery. Now, at the end of the marching season, some had descended into the Vale for their semiannual visits. Music, dance, weddings, funerals, and politics were the only things that could bring them into a place they considered the flatlands.

  Southbridge and Ragmarket parents herded children forward, dressed in their best and sometimes only clothes.

  Their blue-jacketed guards directed the carriage driver around to the less-crowded alley behind the temple, where Lyss and her companions could enter via the back door.

  Just inside, Finn and Hadley were waiting for them. He and Julianna e
mbraced as if it had been months and not hours since they’d seen each other.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t ride along,” Finn said. “I seem to have too many people running my life these days. My father has absolutely no sense of urgency when it comes to anything other than war and politics. Lord Vega is the same with regard to the healing service.” He kissed Julianna again. And then again.

  “Hey, Lyss,” Hadley said, as if to draw her attention away from the kissing. “Is that a new dress? I don’t think I’ve seen you wear that before.”

  Lyss examined Hadley’s face for any sign of a smirk, but saw none. “It’s Aunt Mellony’s,” she said, resisting the urge to yank at the fabric. Hadley looked a lot more comfortable in her leather breeches and silk shirt, a mariner’s sash at her waist.

  Hadley studied her. “You should wear dresses more often,” she said, stroking her chin, nodding thoughtfully.

  “Quit shoveling it, Hadley, you know I—”

  “I didn’t say that dress,” Hadley said, grinning. “Just dresses in general.”

  It seemed that Finn and Julianna were done kissing, because Finn broke into the conversation. “We need to go sit down,” Finn said, “but we’re going out after. Do you want to come with us?”

  “We” meaning Julianna and Finn? Three would definitely be a crowd. “Well, ah . . . I’d love to, but I actually promised Hadley I’d—”

  “Hadley, you come, too,” Julianna said, her happiness sloshing over the two of them like a rogue wave. She turned to Shadow. “What about you, Shadow? Do you have plans after the concert?”

  Shadow hesitated. “No,” he said, “but I don’t want to—”

  “Please come!” Julianna said. “I need to find out what you’ve been seeing and hearing out east.”

  “No working,” Finn said, rolling his eyes. “Only playing. The more the merrier.”

  “The more the merrier,” Lyss said, thinking that at least the happiness would be diluted a little. What do you get when you mix giddy and grieving?

  “Right. It’s settled, then.” Finn took Julianna’s elbow. “We’d better go, before we lose our seats.” And the two of them walked away, arm in arm.